Trekkies At The Renaissance Faire - Shat
Nere By The Food Booths
Full disclosure time: my wifes a card-carrying Renny who
can balance two full tankards of the Kings good ale on her
ample, corseted bosoms, while her cleavage houses all her non-period
possessions like cel and I.D. And while were casting the first
stone, I myself own pirate boots and can quote several Robert
Burns poems. On the other side, Ive enjoyed the thinly
veiled morality plays of Shatner and Nemoy, especially
when stylized lighting is in use over Kirks fierce, alien-seducing
eyes. Having once been dragged to a Star-Con, (once,) I can say
it was much more difficult to resist bitch-slapping Klingons and
Romulans than troubadours and buskers.
Either of these questionable endeavors would be easy fodder for
ridicule on their own. But combined, the elements form a cultural
bond of such acrid toxicity that even stalwart social outsiders
are left watery-eyed and gasping for air. This phenomenon of Starfleet
personnel mingling with saucy wenches must have some basis in obscure
geek mythology for it to occur simultaneous all over the country
like cat-ladies or Starbucks. Though youll see nary a red-shirt
amongst th gentle crew, as they nae wish to k'yak on yon turkey
leg. Perhaps these misguided travelers make a veiled reference to
Episode #26, Assignment: Earth, in which the landing
party ogles a tail-end-of-the-60s Teri Garr dressed
like a hip That Girl. Or they tried to beam into WWII
Germany (The City on the Edge of Forever" episode #28)
but missed. Can you write off the paradox with a simple, Computer,
initiate ancient Earth festival? Are they proposing to have
landed in the 16th century, or at a modern historical re-creation?
My instinct is to ask them their motivations, but I have fear because
I do not understand. The same fear that my youthful mohawk and earrings
brought to light in high-school football players. To wit; I could
easily take them if any trouble arose, but dare I risk exposure
to their disease? Does with understanding come complicity? Will
I be poring over the schematics of Miranda-class escape pods? Will
pointing out their distance (at least twice-removed) from reality
be the final psychic pummeling that pushes them off the short-bus,
where a prior overdose of gamma-radiation causes a startling metamorphosis
to occur, thereby allowing my sorry ass to be smeared across the
The need to belong is a reoccurring theme in mankinds makeup.
Its embossed on our DNA as sure as Johnny Depp is forever
saddled with Wino Forever on his arm. But rarely do
you see such a blatant show of mans urge to be ostracized.
Anyone can find rejection of jocks or suits without even trying,
but to be shunned by another class of dorks takes a reckless dedication
that few possess. We should worship these bold individuals the way
Indigenous Americans revered homosexuals. Or at least the way Bud
salutes any poor slob with a powerful thirst and $1.29 for a tallboy.
But instead, were confused and confounded that theyve
compounded the nerd quotient like Jesse McCartney playing
Dungeons & Dragons.
Please forward all complaints to Starfleet Command, who will remove
your chevrons for initiating an unauthorized mission, violating
the prime directive, and being the reason why they hate America.
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